To Anhil, greetings!
by Kexy Kewl
Summary: I send this letter to you enclosing my love, best wishes and blessings of Light and health apart from the news I exchange with you... Anhil receives a letter from his brother, Dernhil, before his death... what does he have to say? Wee spoiler for book 1&2
1. The final words

**When I was reading the Iklital, (the recorded correspondence between the Bards) I found several letters, written by and to important people. Sometimes, they were even written by common people to the more important Bards in Edil-Amarandh, or vice-versa. While much of the correspondence which exists is between the First Bards; about the edicts of Light; between Maerad and Hem; Hem and Saliman and Cadvan and Maerad, there is also a letter by Dernhil of Gent, addressed to his brother Anhil of Gent, who was, like his elder brother, a member of the Circle. I've translated the letter from Annaren to English, and the following text is my own translation. This letter approximates back to a little before Dernhil of Gent's tragic and cruel death.**

* * *

To Anhil, greetings!

I send this letter to you enclosing my love, best wishes and blessings of the Light apart from the news I exchange with you. I hope you're all fine at Gent. How are Gahal and Rena and their children? And the rest of the Circle? May it be that my hopes and wishes for the stability and prosperity of Gent outshine the Light itself!

I'm happy here at Innail – yes, I mention this in every single letter I write, only for the fun I get imagining that look of irritation and amusement on your face – and things are to my satisfaction. I miss Gent too, and my studies here at Innail about Maninaë and Lanorgrim draw to an end, but my stay here is prolonged by the troves of documents about Pellinor. Innail is not far from Pellinor, and maybe I can educate myself a bit more on its sacking, and, well, I just wish to engulf myself in Pellinor lore. It might take me another year, maybe two, before I could return to Gent, but what is a year or so to a Bard? We are fortunate to be so closely aged according to the Barding cycle, after all. And maybe after a year at Gent, I will leave for Norloch - I think I could easily be a member of the Second or the Third Circle, don't you agree, eh?

How was your Springturn? I, of course, attended the Innail Meet - it was lovely, that. The Springturn came to Innail by blessing the early-risers with an exceptionally radiant Osidh Annova – never, in my five years here at Innail, did I see the Annova in such spelndour. It shone like that every day from Springturn till a week or so. The radiance kept diminishing slightly after each passing day, till one day, when I thought that the shine that day wouldn't be even a sixteenth of that on the first day, when it returned, this time, with radiance surpassing the one on Springturn. It made my heart very warm and light; it felt as if the Light itself was coming to me.

The next day was the Meet. I anticipated it as I anticipate each Meet – not very enthusiastically, but not very dully either. During the day, I played several games of Gis with my friends, particularly Kelia. I even went riding, once or twice alone but mostly with friends. Even though it more than exhilarated me, it reminded me a lot of Clavila, and the times when we rode together with another friend or so, when I used to frequently visit the northern Schools.

Now that I think of it, I can make a fairly accurate surmise why the Annova were so resplendent for these past few days. The day before the Meet (the day when the Annova was at its glorious best) brought me my dear friend, Cadvan of Lirigon, to Innail. To say that I was overjoyed to see him and talk to him after such a long time shall be an understatement! He is still almost the same person I knew from my early days - still the person who wanders from tower to dungeon, from land to sea, from city to village in intangible quests of the Light. He confided much to me, contrary to what I'd expected, but I shall refrain from detailing our conversation here: not only to maintain the sanctity of our friendship, but to also avoid news falling to stray ears.

Cadvan _has_ changed by but a tiniest fraction, though. He's not new to company during his expeditions, but knows what even a single addition as company can mean - a burden, an uncertainty and (his favourite theme of course) a danger. He has even begun remembering again what the companionship of a woman means, perhaps because of his rather charming and startling friend he introduced to me - Maerad.

Maerad... Well, how should I begin to describe her? She is a charismatic and beautiful girl, yet damaged at the same time. From beyond the Annova, Cadvan says, he brought her with him when he found her in the valleys alone. I yearn to describe her to you, but news can go stray, as I've mentioned before. I think it shall not be long before we meet, though. I first saw her with Cadvan at the Meet. They played the lay of Andomian and Beruldh, and their melody was truer and sweeter than I've ever heard before. Maerad's contralto still haunts me, and this is not all: she has turned out to be an extraordinary pupil as well.

I offered to Cadvan that besides whatever woes he had yet to inflict upon the girl, I would appreciate it if she went out of Innail with at least a faint idea of how to make out words and sentences. He accepted more readily than I'd anticipated from such a stubborn person, though he still held his doubts and for the voiced them for the millionth time when he was introducing me and Maerad personally...

That girl! Her desire to learn; the effort she puts in; the sheer joy illuminating her form when she holds a parchment embroided with clear, beautiful words; her fierce concentration... all of these aspects match my own attitude towards learning and lore. It is a pleasure to teach her and you can't guess, for all your intution, dear brother, how deeply I wish that most of my students were also like her! She observes things very sharply, and has an eerie knack of delving deeper into the meanings of words. She's a very determined person, I grant that; maybe almost as determined as her now-sole-mentor, Cadvan. Yes, there were rumours, of course - scandalising ones.

I can't decipher why by the abyss did I have to ask her if she and Cadvan were lovers! Of course they wouldn't be, considering the girl's damaged, abusive past. How can she love, when she doesn't even know that closeness needn't be lust? How can she love, when she can't differ between a friend and a lover? How can she love, when she's seen so much death around her? And I guess she detests me - loathes me - now, because I was too hasty, too improper in my advances. And though I can see her capacity to befriend, to love, to be gracious, caring, strong and bearing - marks of a true and perfect woman - and though she has the greatness to be forgiving, I can only imagine how hurt she might truly be, despite her calling me her friend as a reply to my apology...

I'm a fine judge of character, even if I say so myself, and I can quite honestly declare that it feels as if Maerad's very soul is made of the Light. This is not a brief spell of attraction, nor a powerful infatuation; in these few days, it's as if her very soul has spoken to mine, causing it to jump awake, as if it lay in a deep slumber till now. She's pure and lofty and virtuous. I thank the Light, and the gods of the south, for having blessed me so as to get a chance to meet her, and bask in her beauty and greatness.

She leaves with Cadvan tomorrow, I think. I gave her a pen and a book of my poems to her. Cadvan talked with me in all the evenings during his visit. Sometimes it was about old times, sometimes about our present lives, about Maerad, about the Light, about our families, debates or about Innail. That demon of a man, that Cadvan, catches on every single thing. Can't there be a time when this man doesn't know something? He knew well about my signs of favour towards his pupil - he even cautioned me about being too rash. I had to tell him, of course, what happened, even though I'd been well aware of his warning. He was sad, because he had said that he hadn't wanted his new friend to be hurt in any way, but told me that it was nothing which couldn't be set right. He was equally pleased about his pupil's progress. They head to Norloch now, to meet Nelac, and to give other reportings. I shall miss him, more than before as always, and miss Maerad too.

This has been a great week. Though brother, I am more desperate than you may realise, to meet you. It's as if the ultimatum is approaching. I am sorry that Cadvan is leaving, and shockingly, a bit sorry that he had to come. Perhaps it's because of the almost physical agony it causes me to fare well a friend. I'm sad for my own forgetfulness with Maerad, and her reaction, but surprisingly glad too. Probably it's because I won't see her in a long time if Cadvan makes her his companion in his detours, which will mean that it's better if we don't get to feel too strongly about one another. Even if the opposite were the case, I still think that for all my love, we would never have walked upon the romantic paths of the Ways of the Heart. I'm glad for Silvia and Malgorn (it's as if they found Clavila again in Maerad) but a bit sorry too. I don't know. I just wish I get your reply back in time, though I don't understand myself what I mean by "in time".

Please, Anhil, reply as soon as you've read the entire letter. I miss you terribly, and hope I can meet you personally. I am hoping you are all well and love me as much as a brother could, even after years of neglect on my part. I deeply apologise for any hurt I may have caused you, and I'm assuring you that I'm going to meet you sometime in this month itself, even though my heart strangely tells me that the month might be a long time. A blessing on your house - our house!

With love, friendship and sincerity,  
along with blessings of the Light,  
your beloved brother'  
Dernhil

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**Alright, I'm feeling like a Hull, about how I've used Alison's knack in ****the beginning of my little fic... So let me say, the characters aren't ****mine. Only the letter is (*sigh* why didn't you write this letter to me, ****Dernhil?) Anhil mentioned that Dernhil had written a letter to him ****before he'd died. There were two major points in the letter, the first ****being that Anhil said that he'd written a lot about Maerad and the ****second being that Cadvan mentions in The Singing about Dernhil having a ****bit of a foresight. I intend it to be a oneshot, but I may write a reply ****by Anhil as well. **

***Reviews are MORE than welcome. Constructive criticism, bla bla blah... ****Thanks :D***


	2. A brother's advice

Anhil of Gent sat at his study, hurrying through his work so that he could read a letter which held a place of honour at his desk: letter from his brother, Dernhil. Finally, thrashing all the completed work aside, Anhil settled by his window and began to read the letter and memories came flashing back to him, as they always did when he read his letters. Memories of them playing as children, studying together, with Dernhil more than often helping him... Dernhil leaving Anhil for his studies... And many more. So finally he's got a love interest, Anhil smirked in his mind. He'd always thought his brother to be too pious for allowing himself such liberties, although that was a little far from the truth. Even though, it hadn't worked out well, Anhil thought a bit ruefully. Surprisingly, Dernhil's letter made Anhil almost cry out in sadness. It was too bleak, to abrupt, too morose. Which was why Anhil decided to go ahead, besides many other reasons, to begin writing a letter to his brother immediately.

_To Dernhil, greetings!_

_I write to you my reply as soon as I've finished reading your letter, which frankly tells me too little about you. Is this an art of lore and poetry or composition, that the reader always has to be left ravenous after they've read whatever the author has to offer? For if it is so, then let me inform you that it is _not _a good technique. And I write you to convey my love and blessings of the Light to you. Our house is fine, brother: Gahal and Rena are all well, and the Circle too is well, if not taking it easy upon itself. The Darkness which you say of works a cold panic into our art too, and we can do all but remain in good touch with the rest of the Kingdoms. You, as well as any other politician in Edil-Amarandh, will know that Annar is a place which should nowadays be best refrained from._

_I hope you enjoy your studies and life at Innail. And I'm pleased to inform you that your clever suggestions about the fair life at Innail always manages to irritate me. But I don't think you realise, brother, that it also manages to sadden me. It reminds me a lot about are childhood. And it also saddens me that you'll be prolonged by Pellinor lore. I was wondering a few days ago only when you'll be coming back to Gent... A powerful and well-read Bard like you could be a great asset to the Light and Gent at this time. For, as you'll know it better than anyone else, _In the Darkness, the Light shines more brightly.

_I'm very happy to hear the Cadvan is back in touch with you. The way you describe it, I could almost hear Cadvan chanting off his escapades to me! So from what I gather, you've had a truly blessed week, with what you tell me about the magnificent Osidh Annova offering you a tantalising morning greeting and an Innail Meet in full swing... I sigh, brother! I itch to bury myself in the famed dining halls of Innail, with platters after platters coming and engulfing me with their rich aromas. A Bard or so too went from here to the Meet. Perhaps if they got an opportunity to converse with you, I'll be satisfied that someone at least saw your famous face!_

_I wish you could've described your charming young lady to me. To think, that Dernhil of Gent is finally interested in a lady and has impressed her every so often with his, no doubt, wondrous poetry, is quite an achievement. For all those long years, you could've been desiring a much more unusual prospect. Ah! Forgive me brother, if I'm seeming impertinent. I didn't mean to offend you and certainly not disturb you. I can't pretend to understand your distress well, brother, but let me assure you one thing: You're a wonderful man - you're kind, your smart, you're well known, you can love well, you're handsome, you're truthful, you're a powerful Bard of the Light and you're sincere and any woman would be insane not to forgive you for even the gravest of the grave errors. Your Maerad has forgiven you, as you tell me; then trust me: she has forgiven you from the heart. _

_And by the way you narrate things, I think that she considered you something beyond a friend in the deepest recesses of herself, even if she doesn't know what a relation other than a parent or friend or sibling, perhaps, means. Don't despair! When time comes, you'll realise that both of you still are good friends. And good friends both of you shall make, for the mutual love of music among Bards and your thirsts to read and write. I would very much like to meet her, as well as Cadvan, of course. Perhaps they might stop by at Gent. And what better do you expect from Cadvan, eh? It shall be a thousand times more than a folly to even think for a mere second that Cadvan of Lirigon might want to avert his face from dangers and adventures and escapades and all._

_So my dear brother, please do not let guilt and the suffocating advancement of the Dark take a toll on you. You always had the tendency to worry too much, and if it still exists, then I shall have to drag you back to Gent (something which I would dearly love to do) and waft the aroma of the sea to your nostrils and take you to scenic rides by the Ileadh Falls. I'm really glad for Silvia and Malgorn... the death of their daughter would haunt them till the end of their lives, and it is only for the best Cadvan and Maerad payed a visit at the perfect time; not only for them, but also for you and maybe, for the Light, seeing that it's _Cadvan _we're talking about here. Speaking of the Light, brother, are you all well? Please, do come back to Gent. And for now, keep undesirable thoughts away from your mind: they're as corrupting as the Dark. _

_Remember, you're well loved and respected. You've friends and you've our family here. You've your passion for lore and a healthy life. So if you really mean your final words in the letter, then it is time you came back and embraced me physically again... And remember, brother. I love you._

_With love and blessings of the Light,  
Your beloved brother,  
Anhil._

Satisfied with his work, Anhil placed the letter on his study and went retired to his bed for the night.

* * *

The first thing which Anhil of Gent did in the morning was to almost run down to the doors of the Bardhouse in which he lived to see the Innail emissary arranging a few letters into his bag, his horse by him.

"Lernik of Innail!" He called out, waving his letter.

"Ah! A good morning to you, Anhil of Gent!" Lernik, the emissary greeted and smiled.

"And same to you. Now, lad, will you take - " Anhil was about to say that will Lernik take his letter to his brother Dernhil when suddenly, a dark object almost fell on Anhil's head. Anhil jumped back and then saw it was a raven. He bent down and began examining it and the raven positioned himself up on Anhil's arm and began speaking.

"Salutations to Anhil of Gent! I bring grievous news from lady Silvia of Innail, regarding your brother. Your honoured and cherished brother, Dernhil of Gent, has passed through the Gates to the realms of no-return..." The raven went on to illuminate clearly how Dernhil had died, but Anhil heard nothing more than a few sentences. He had gone deaf, and yet he could hear a ringing in his ears... his mouth was dry, and yet he was able to take a gulp after gulp... his eyes were as big as an almond, but they were becoming moist with ever passing fraction of a tiny second...

No, it can't be... his brother can't be... _dead?_ No... his world can't shatter like that, for there was still Dernhil in it... No, it can't happen, he thought, as his letter fell pitifully from his hand to the gravel on the ground and Anhil couldn't summon up the energy to make his brain remember every detail thereafter. _No..._


End file.
